


Sweeten the Deal

by stargate-ruiner (purpleplanet)



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Banter, Dry Humping, Established Relationship, Grinding, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Neck Kissing, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 10:38:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19083337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleplanet/pseuds/stargate-ruiner
Summary: Curt has something Owen wants, negotiations ensue.Both of them think they got the better end of the deal.





	Sweeten the Deal

The presence of an uninvited guest in his hotel room made Curt instinctively draw his gun.

But recognizing the figure as familiar, he relaxed his stance.

“Honey, we’ve got to stop meeting like this. You don’t have to break in. If you would just be patient and _knock,_ I would open the door for you.” he joked.

 

From the other side of the room, Owen whipped his head around to meet Curt. He was kneeling by his bed, one hand still tucked under it, rooting around, the other gripping his gun, which he’d drawn instinctively at the sound of the door opening.

He looked almost sheepish for a moment, knowing he was caught in the act, before gathering his composure and speaking. “Not a conjugal visit, I’m afraid.”

Curt noticed that he hadn’t lowered his gun.

 

Curt squinted, confused. “Then what’d you come here for?”

 

Owen fished around with his hand a bit more until he found what he was looking for, pulling his hand back out and flourishing the envelope it now held triumphantly. “You always use the same hiding spot.” He smirked. “You should be more careful. Someone who knows you well could take advantage of that.” He chided tauntingly.

 

Curt knew exactly what was in that envelope: the blueprints he’d been sent here to retrieve, the blueprints he’d taken an entire week to get so that he could do it subtly and with no commotion, the blueprints that there were only one physical copy in the world of, _goddammit._

He sighed. “Owen, come on, you can’t take those. Cynthia will have my head if I don’t deliver.”

 

Owen shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t exactly asking your permission. In fact, I’d been hoping to get in and out before you even arrived.”

 

“Yeah, I got that.” Curt gestured with his gun. “I hate to do this, but I’m not gonna let you leave unless you hand them over.”

 

A smile broke out across Owen’s face, and he pursed his lips slightly, trying to hold back his laughter. His shoulders moved with a chuckle as he looked up at Curt. “Would you actually shoot me?”

 

Curt blinked in surprise at Owen’s question. _“Would you?”_ he countered.

 

Owen tipped his head back and forth exaggeratedly, as if weighing the pros and cons.

“I might.” he said finally.

Seeing how Curt looked taken aback at that, he continued, defensively. “Oh relax! Not _fatally_. Nowhere even important. And only if you got in my way.” he finished darkly.

 

In a show of boldness, Curt took a step into the room, shutting the door behind him. “MI6 could’ve just _asked_ for the blueprints.”

Owen finally rose, standing up fully now. “Yes, but the Americans aren’t exactly known for sharing.”

 

“I suppose that’s fair.” Curt said, lowering his gun and walking across the room. He reached where Owen stood and paused, the two of them briefly staring each other down, before he trailed his gaze away and ran a hand up Owen’s chest. “Still, I really don’t want this to end with violence.”

 

“Neither do I. Perhaps we could -mmph!”

 

Curt grabbed him by the tie and pulled him into a kiss, catching him off guard. He soon relaxed into it and Curt could feel the smile grow on his lips just before he pulled away.

Owen raised an eyebrow. “I just threatened to shoot you, are you really that desperate?”

 

“How long has it been?” Curt asked, blurting the non sequitur, noticeably out of breath.

 

“Since we were last together?” Owen thought for a moment. “Today makes nearly three weeks.”

 

 _“Too long.”_ Curt dove back in, pressing another kiss to Owen’s lips before trailing off, pecking gently down past his chin until he reached his neck.

 

Owen’s breath hitched a bit at the contact but he covered it with an airy laugh. “Honestly, Curt, have you no dignity?”

 

“Eh, Who needs dignity?” And with that, Curt was back at Owen’s neck.

 

Owen let him go for a few moments, relishing in the affection, before speaking again. “Curt.”

Curt hummed against his neck.

He snaked a hand into Curt’s hair. Curt nearly moaned at what he presumed to encouragement, but let out a sound of displeasure when Owen used his grip to forcibly pull him off of him. He wasn’t in pain, but simply annoyed at the interruption.

 

" _Curt.”_ Owen repeated.

 

 _“What?_ _”_ Curt whined.

 

“ _The blueprints._ ” Owen reminded him, slightly frustrated.

 

“What about them?” Curt mumbled distractedly, eyeing the spot on Owen’s neck he’d just been working and trying to tell if he could see the hickey yet.

 

Owen rolled his eyes. “I’m taking them.”

 

“I told you, you _can’t_.” Curt protested.

 

“And I told _you,_ that it’s not up to you. I have to do my job.” Owen took his hand out of Curt’s hair.

 

Curt dropped his head onto Owen’s shoulder melodramatically. “You’re being a buzzkill.”

 

“I’m being _practical._ ” he insisted.

 

Curt turned his head to whisper into his partner’s ear. “Why do you always have to be so serious all the time? Can’t you just let yourself have a little fun?” He pulled back suddenly, making eye contact, before continuing to speak, now more excitedly. “We’ve got time! My flight isn’t until tomorrow. What about you?”

 

Owen hesitated, shifting where he stood. “I’ve actually got two days.” he admitted.

 

Curt grinned. “Well, see? That gives us all night to _work out a deal.”_ He ran a hand along Owen’s shoulder.

 

He let himself smile cautiously. Though he wouldn’t say it himself, he realized that Curt was right: he had plenty of time. And he really had missed him.  _And_ there wouldn’t be any harm in enjoying himself for just one night.

“You really think we can come to an agreement that will please both parties?” he asked.

 

Curt pressed another light kiss to Owen’s neck. “I’d certainly like to try.”

 

With that, Owen set the envelope and his gun down on the nightstand, and Curt followed suit with his own weapon. He then sat down on the edge of the bed and beckoned Curt over with a wave of his hand. Curt smiled, taking his seat on Owen’s lap, facing him. He returned to Owen’s neck as Owen's hands found their way to his hips. He tilted his chin up to give Curt better access, breath catching in his throat as Curt rolled his hips appreciatively and and continued to kiss his neck.

He let his eyes fall shut, drinking in the sensation for a few short moments, before forcing himself to speak again.

“I believe we were in the middle of a negotiation? You’d better start talking.”

 

Curt pulled away, swinging his head back around to look at Owen. “What’s the rush? The night is young.”

 

“Yes, but I think I’d enjoy it a lot more if I knew we had this squared away.”

 

Curt huffed, slinging his arms over Owen’s shoulders. “ _Fine_. Would MI6 be satisfied with just a picture of the blueprints? You’d have all the information, _and_ the satisfaction that they were no longer in such dangerous hands.” he proposed.

 

“They might.” Owen tilted his head. “If there was a little something more to sweeten the deal.”

He gripped Curt’s hips a little rougher and bucked his own hips up to emphasize his point, noting how Curt bit his lip to stifle a moan.

 

“Well, the fact that you came to take them from _me_ means that you didn’t know who had them first.” Curt smiled smugly, proud of his skills of deduction. Owen would never admit out loud that his agency was behind in information, so Curt leaned in and pressed a kiss to Owen’s lips to punctuate his sentence, feeling validated when Owen returned it.

He pulled back. “So how about that? You want his name?”

 

Owen finally let out a real moan as Curt rolled his hips again, repeating the action rhythmically until he reached a steady pattern. Curt was ready to take that as an indication that the deal had been struck, leaning forward to recapture Owen’s neck, but Owen gripped Curt’s hips even harder, holding him in place.

“I want his name,” he said, dropping one hand from Curt’s hip to his thigh, stroking it as he spoke, “and I want his room number.”

 

Believing himself to have picked up on Owen’s intentions, Curt let out a giggle, “Are you gonna kill him?” he asked teasingly.

 

He blinked, not wanting to say anything that might spoil the mood, and unsure of whether his intentions would affect the real negotiation at hand. If they’d sent Curt to be so stealthy, there was a chance the CIA wanted whoever originally held the blueprints alive. “You know that’s top secret, love.” He finally settled on, as he moved his hand back up Curt’s thigh, higher this time.

 

“Come on, I’m not gonna judge you.” Curt reached forward and ran a careful hand through Owen’s hair, gazing at him fondly.

 

Owen leaned into the touch, smiling despite himself. “Yeah.” he confessed. “Yeah, I’m going to kill him.”

 

“Do you want to borrow my silencer?”

 

Curt was nothing if not straightforward.

 

Without meaning to, Owen let out a sharp laugh in surprise, which turned into an echoing chuckle. He shook his head slightly. “Curt Mega, you are something else.”

 

Curt laughed with him. “Well you didn’t have one when you came in!” he explained, “If you really had shot me, the whole hotel would have heard.”

 

“Thin walls?”

 

“Ugh,” Curt complained, “like _paper._ ”

 

“Well if we really do have _all_ night,” Owen smirked, “then, I’m not the only one who needs to be worried about keeping quiet, hm?”

 

Curt grinned. “Then we’ve come to an arrangement, have we, Agent?”

 

“Seems we have.” Owen reached one of his hands up to the back of Curt’s head, gently guiding him back into the crook of his neck.

 

He could feel Curt’s breath against his skin as he let out a laugh. “Glad we could work something out.” He returned to kissing him. Owen took hold of Curt’s hips again, which Curt took as an invitation to continue grinding against his lover, even more fiercely than before.

 

“There is -ah!- one small matter left, though.” Owen managed to get out between the gasps and moans.

 

“What’s that?” Curt mumbled into his neck.

 

Owed chuckled lightly. “What about something to sweeten _my_ deal?”

 

Curt moved back to face him. “What do you mean?”

 

“You’ve caused me a significant inconvenience tonight, darling. I should think that a little something special on my end is earned.” he purred.

 

Curt raised his eyebrows. “Oh yeah? Anything in mind?”

 

“Well, you’ve proven yourself to be quite the smooth-talker tonight. Is there anything _else_ you can to with that mouth of yours?” Owen suggested, his tone leaving no ambiguity towards his meaning.

 

Curt made a hyperbolic show of pondering the question, before speaking again, beaming. “I can think of something.”

 

Owen laughed. “I thought you might.”

 

He slid off of Owen’s lap and dropped to his knees in front of him.

 

 _What a view._ Owen thought.

 

Curt looked up at him with a devilish grin.

“This is the _sweetest_ deal you are _ever_ going to get.”


End file.
